Tidying My Room: A Power Ballad


Tomorrow is room inspection day,

So I have to clean my room,

I start tidying without delay,

Despite a rising sense of gloom.


My room looks like a fly tip,

There are insects alive and dead,

Usually I would tell myself to get a grip,

But I can’t seem to find my bed.


There are pizza boxes everywhere,

Wine bottles in the tens,

There’s a terrible smell I can hardly bear,

And about a hundred used up pens.


I found some old bagels and a toothbrush,

I even found a waste paper bin,

I found a spider which I tried to crush,

But I haven’t found a single bobby pin.


I found dozens of socks,

Threw out tonnes of magazines,

I found an empty jewellery box,

And a leaflet for the marines.


I found some vodka and some whiskey,

And towels still wet to the touch,

Looking so closely at my mess is risky,

I swear I didn’t order pizza this much.


Now everything is in large black bags,

My clothes are folded up neat,

They should call me Mrs. Moneybags,

Considering the change I found in the seat.


Now all I want to do is repent,

And rest my weary head,

But I don’t know where the spider went,

So I’m sleeping on the sofa instead.

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